


A Christmas Ambush

by LornaHarrisonStan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock/Harry Potter Crossover
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Christmas, Ficlet, Fluff, Harry Potter Crossover - Freeform, M/M, Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:59:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LornaHarrisonStan/pseuds/LornaHarrisonStan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is always impatient, even when giving gifts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Christmas Ambush

John was awoken rather suddenly on Christmas morning by suddenly finding that he had landed rather painfully on the floor. He groaned and dragged a hand over his face, then blinked his eyes open to realize that landing on the floor had been no accident. Sherlock stood over him; blue scarf tucked into his raven-embroidered flannel pajamas, black hair falling into his eyes, and a stern poker face on.  


“John, it’s nearly nine and you aren’t up yet,” the gangly teenager whined down at him, and John groaned, rolling onto his side on the cold hardwood floor.  


“Who told you the password this time?” the Gryffindor demanded tiredly, grabbing the side of his mattress to pull himself up. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he helped John up, looking contemptuously at the shorter boy.  


“Anderson. Well, he didn’t mean to.”  


“Remind me to kill him next time I see him.”  


“You might not have to, judging from his grades.”  


“His Gran isn’t that scary.”  


Sherlock fixed him with an unblinking gaze that told him he was completely wrong.  


“Start opening your presents. I’ve guessed what they are and assumed it would be wrong to open them for confirmation.” Sherlock stated, clapping his hands together and spinning to look down at the small group of presents at the foot of John’s bed. “Should I tell you my guesses before or after?”  


“After! After, Sherlock. Remind me again why you didn’t go home for Christmas?” John sat at the edge of his bed and leaned down to pick up one of the colorful rectangular boxes.  


“Mycroft’s incessant eating bothers me. Open your presents.”  


The blonde rolled his eyes and tore the wrapping paper off the box, then smiled and held up a box of chamomile tea.  


“Mother remembered!” he said fondly, and Sherlock muttered a vague; “Check,” under his breath. Sherlock reached down and shoved a small box wrapped in gold foil into John’s hands, eyebrows pulled together on his forehead.  


“Open this one next,” The Ravenclaw insisted urgently, shifting back and forth impatiently. John narrowed his eyes. The box was unmarked with a name or pen mark of any kind, and small, the size of John’s palm.  


“Is it yours?” he asked suspiciously, wondering if he was about to get something unpleasantly mushy poured all over him. But Sherlock shook his head and nudged a red package with his foot.  


“This one is mine. Just open it, John. Or give it to me.” Sherlock insisted, sounding kind of annoyed. John rolled his eyes and tore the gold foil from the box, then looked down at the cardboard with no small amount of trepidation. He swallowed, and, feeling Sherlock staring at him, slowly pried the box open.  


There was a long, breathless moment of a vacuum-like silence, and then something thick, red, and… yarn-y… was bursting from the box and slithering around his arms and chest with a panic-inducing tightness. John yelped and flailed, trying to grab the yarn with his hands and rip it off. Then it was done and Sherlock was cackling violently into his hands with glee. John stood with his hands stiffly away from his sides as Sherlock let out a long, drawn out snort. The Gryffindor looked down slowly and found himself face to face with the most hideous, clashing, eye-stabbing Christmas jumper he had ever seen in his life. And he’d seen quite a few. John slowly relaxed his arms and stared at Sherlock blankly.  


“Merry Christmas, John,” Sherlock grinned, pulling himself together enough to swoop down and kiss John’s blond head, then sprint away before his boyfriend could finally react enough to extract payback.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my cousin for Christmas 2012, she requested a Hogwarts/Sherlock crossover =D lemme know whatcha think!


End file.
